Chapter 80 Seeking Justice for Rowan
Larkin was momentarily taken aback, "Should Ms. Ophelia stay in the guest room or your..." He trailed off at the room question.
Darian gave him a fleeting glance and sternly replied, "The guest room."
Larkin immediately nodded. "Yes, sir."
Ophelia couldn't contain her excitement when she learned Darian wanted her to stay. "Really? Darian actually said that?"
Larkin affirmed, saying, "Yes, those were Mr. Fitzgerald's direct orders."
Ophelia was overjoyed, realizing that Darian didn't hold a grudge against her because of the ordeal with Cecily.
Ophelia smirked, feeling assured of her superiority. In her mind, Cecily paled in comparison. As the future lady of the house, she believed Darian's affections would always remain with her, and he wouldn't distance himself because of Cecily.
She composed herself and replied Larkin, "I get it."
Larkin watched Ophelia, her face alight with joy, and shook his head with a cold, stealthy chuckle. She had no clue what she was going to face tomorrow morning.
...
The next day dawned early.
Griffin was up at the crack of dawn. He was waiting to see what punishment would befall those who had hurt his brother, as Darian had promised him an explanation the night before.
Darian sat with Griffin on the sofa, while a line of maids stood in front of them, their heads lowered, too afraid to even breathe.
The living room was tense with an oppressive atmosphere.
Ophelia, dressed to the nines, descended the stairs with a hand on the railing. Catching sight of the scene, she sensed something was amiss. Her smile froze, and her heartbeat quickened.
"Darian, what's happening? What's going on?" she asked.
Darian lifted his gaze and gave her a sweeping, frigid glance. "Sit," he commanded.
Ophelia's eyes darted nervously over the maids as she cautiously took a seat on the sofa.
Darian glanced over the lined-up servants and said, "Begin."
A row of bodyguards advanced, each wielding a whip. Several of the more timid maids crumbled to the floor, crying and pleading, "Young master, I was wrong. I won't dare do it again. Please spare me."
Darian paid no attention to these pleas.
The maids' hands were forcibly held down, and the whips with barbs were brutally brought down upon them.
The living room was filled with wails of pain.
Darian's expression was detached, without a single glance toward Ophelia.
As Ophelia listened to the cries, her face went pale, and a cold shiver ran through her body.
After twenty lashes each, the maids' hands were a bloody, pulpy mess.
Ophelia glanced once and quickly covered her mouth in horror.
One of the maids couldn't bear the pain any longer and fainted right at her feet.
Clutching her chest, Ophelia trembled as she looked at Darian and stammered, "Darian... what did they do wrong..."
Only then did Darian lift his gaze, giving her a chilling look.
That gaze sent a shiver down Ophelia's spine.
Larkin spoke up from the side, "These people have been getting hefty paychecks from the Fitzgerald's family. Despite this, they backstab us, show no respect to the young master, and even regularly abuse him. They deserve to be punished."
The mention of Rowan being mistreated sent a chill through Ophelia's heart, wondering if Darian was making her watch the servants get whipped because he had discovered something.
A growing sense of fear filled Ophelia.
Darian gestured for her to sit next to him.
Ophelia swallowed nervously and sat down beside Darian as she stuttered, "Darian ..."
Darian looked at her with his inscrutable eyes and spoke calmly, "They hurt Rowan. Do you think this punishment is enough?"
Filled with fear, Ophelia looked back at Darian but remained silent, unable to find her voice.
After a prolonged pause, Darian's patience wore thin once more. "Speak," he demanded.
Biting her lower lip, Ophelia stammered, "...They hurt Rowan, this punishment... naturally... isn't enough..."
"Go on," Darian said with an emotionless tone.
As the whip cracked through the air and struck flesh, Ophelia's heart lurched with each lash.
Another twenty lashes struck the servants, and Ophelia's forehead was covered in a fine, dense sweat.
Watching the bloody scene, Darian lit a cigarette and slowly smoked, asking again, "Do you think this is enough?"
Ophelia clenched her teeth and turned to see the servants looking at her with pleading eyes.
Darian's deep gaze was fixed on her with an overpowering sense of pressure, and she dared not say it was enough.
"...It's not enough," she said, before firmly closing her eyes.
"Continue."
One of the servants begged desperately, "Please don't, Ms. Ophelia. I beg you, have mercy on us... The abuse of the young master, it was you and the lady who told us to do so... We didn't dare disobey..."
Ophelia kept her head down, her face turning white with fear.
"Lies!" She suddenly stood up, her eyes fiercely fixed on the servant. "Stop slinging mud, when have I ever told you to mistreat Rowan?"
Ophelia quickly glanced at Darian and hastily grabbed his hand. "Darian, they're lying. I didn’t do it. I’ve always cared for Rowan. How could I commit such a vile act? They are smearing my name."
"Oh, is that so? So, Rowan is also smearing your name?"
"Rowan has never liked me. It’s normal for him to smear my name!"
Suddenly, a glass shattered violently at her feet, causing Ophelia to scream and dodge frantically.
Darian's expression was icy cold, his eyes blazing with rage. "A five-year-old child inflicts harm upon himself just because he dislikes you, all to tarnish your reputation? Kneeling as punishment, standing as punishment, following house rules—make it clear, what wrong has he committed?"
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